


Bravado

by Niobium



Series: The Weight of Water [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Star Trek: AOS, Tarsus IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:50:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niobium/pseuds/Niobium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Nero's defeat, Jim Kirk finds himself scrutinized by two very shrewd men.</p><p>Two companion chapters for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/843191/chapters/1608347"><i>The End of Silence</i></a>. Tarsus IV in the AOS. Not really stand-alone from the main piece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd intended these to go into a sequel to [_The End of Silence_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/843191/chapters/1608347), then I realized they really should have been part of it. But I said it was complete, so here they are, as a coda.

***

Avoiding everyone as the shuttle off-loaded was difficult. They all wanted to talk to him, or congratulate him, or berate him, or some combination of all three, and all he could think was that he had to see Dr. M’Benga and he had to see him now.

The sharp, piercing pain in his throat was a symptom he’d been warned about, and it had been worsening for the last three hours as he oversaw their less-than-majestic return from defeating Nero. The scratchiness was bad enough now that drinking water wasn’t helping, and McCoy was giving him sideways glances any time he cleared his throat.

An entire childhood spent evading Frank’s abuse had taught him some tricks, though, and he managed to get himself on a transport to Medical a half-hour after their arrival with no one the wiser. He shut off his communicator as the shuttle ascended, and tried to think of a reasonable excuse to give Bones should he need to.

He took a second to wipe at his watering eyes and compose himself before approaching the desk at the Trauma Center. The last thing he needed or wanted was a scene. “I need to speak to Dr. M’Benga.”

The Andorian receptionist looked up from her tablet. “I’m not sure I’ve seen him recently, but I can contact him--whom should I say it is?”

“Jim Kirk.” He swallowed against a cough. “Tell him it’s important.”

Her eyes swept over him in a quick assessment, and she definitely didn’t like what she saw. “Would you like me to contact the on-call attending? They could--”

“No, just--it needs to be him.”

“I’ll send the message right away.”

He nodded and found a water dispenser, then a chair to sit in while he nursed his cup. M’Benga was looming over him in less than four minutes. 

“Don’t you look fantastic,” he said. His voice was dryer than usual.

“I feel fantastic too.” Jim got up, moving with care; he felt like anything was going to start a coughing spasm. M’Benga nodded his thanks to the receptionist as he led Jim back to an examination room. As soon as the door was shut he had a tablet and his tri-corder out. Jim settled onto the bed and breathed as steadily as he could manage.

“How long’s it been like this?”

“A few hours.” At M’Benga’s exasperated look, Jim said, “I got here as quick as I could. They had to tow us back from the middle of nowhere.”

“Problem with your warp core?”

“Used it to escape a black hole.”

“Now that sounds like a truly stressful situation.” M’Benga grimaced at whatever his tablet showed him and set it aside. He pulled out his communicator. “Jorge, I need an SKS series in Exam 4W, double-time.”

“On my way, Doctor.”

Jim sighed, then regretted it when it caused the pain to spread through his chest. M’Benga stared at him, and Jim averted his eyes.

“You know this is just the start, right? You’re not even in progression yet. It only gets worse from here on out. You have one of these attacks then, and it’s not going to set on in a few hours--you’ll have a half-hour, tops.”

“I know.” He hadn’t meant to sound dismissive, but M’Benga’s eyes hardened.

“Do you really? Because I’m not sure you’ve thought about how this is going to play out.”

“I’m not dropping out of Command. We’ve been over this.”

“Oh, I didn’t think you would. I just wanted it clear that the first time you have an episode after you’re in progression, I’m going to recommend they take you off whatever ship you’re on and sit your ass on a station or planet-side--whichever’s more capable of holding you.” His voice never rose above it’s usual pleasant tenor, yet M’Benga put a wealth of frustration into each word. 

Jim nodded his understanding and tried to convey how contrite he felt with a simple, “Yeah.”

M’Benga huffed a breath and seemed somewhat mollified. There was a knock on the door, then a young physician (presumably Jorge) came in, tray of color-coded injection vials in hand. M’Benga loaded up the first one and sent Jorge off to the lab with a blood sample.

“Just so it’s clear,” M’Benga said as he gave Jim the first shot, “I’m not blaming you for wanting to live your life your own way for as long as you can. The only one to blame is the bastard who did this.”

Jim winced and gripped the bed. It was almost as bad as McCoy’s vaccine, except there would be far more than just one of these. “Yeah. If they ever find them, I plan to have words.”

“Words?” M’Benga moved on to the next shot. “If I were in your position I’d be inclined to use my fists.”

“Those come after the words.” 

M’Benga barked a short laugh. “Be sure to save some for me.”

“I’ll try to remember to.” Jim swallowed; the shots were getting more and more painful.

“Just three more. You’re doing great.” Another shot. Jim reminded himself to breathe. “After this, I want you to lie down, drink as much water as you reasonably can, and eat at least one serving of broth. Then you can go.”

Through gritted teeth, Jim said, “Only if you have something other than that terrible fish crap.”

“I hear we have beef broth lately. Last one.”

It was easily the worst shot he’d ever had. Jim exhaled sharply, and M’Benga helped him lie back on the bed. “This, is how you plan to convince me, to drop Command.”

“It’s an idea I’ve been toying with.” M’Benga disappeared out the door for a brief spell, then returned with a pitcher and a glass of ice water. “Drink.”

He stood there watching while Jim managed half the glass, and immediately refilled it. “I’ll send someone by with the broth. I’d better not find out it disappeared down the sink, or someone else received a generous second helping.”

“You won’t.” M’Benga frowned at him, and Jim raised a hand in placation. “I mean I’ll eat it.” 

M’Benga made a low sound of agreement and turned to go, and Jim said, “Thanks.”

M’Benga looked back over his shoulder. “You want to thank me? Get yourself through this.”

Jim found he could only reply with a nod. It must have been convincing, because M’Benga gave him a final once-over, then left. 

Jim let his head fall back against the bed. As he drifted in and out of a medication-induced haze, he hoped he could figure out a way to make good on that.


	2. Chapter 2

***

Pike was the only one to ambush him about it. (Unless you counted the initial news from his mother, which he didn’t.) Admirals had access to that section of his medical records, and Pike had just been made Admiral, so later he would kick himself for not realizing it was coming and preparing what he’d say.

Being made Acting-Captain didn’t get him out of graduating, and he’d been jogging in between exams to keep his nerves down. He was out on one such excursion when his communicator beeped. It was Pike, and it was important, as in right now, and he was willing to wait for Jim to shower but that was it. He was quick about it, and threw on his cadet’s uniform, and made it to the now-Admiral’s office in under twenty minutes, which was a personal best.

He knew something was up, because Pike wasn’t a master at concealing his intentions, and there was a brittleness to him that had nothing to do with his continued recovery. He was still using the wheelchair more often than not, but he greeted Jim at the door standing, then sat down and rolled himself behind his desk. There was a tablet on his desk with something open that Jim couldn’t make out from where he stood.

“I hear you had a perfect score on your Xenobiology exam.”

He’d always figured Pike was tracking his grades. It was nice to be right. “Yes sir. Professor t’Orim is an excellent teacher.”

“You planning on acing all of them?”

“I’d certainly like to, sir, but I suspect someone other than me will get the top score in Applied Mathematics.”

“Well, I’d appreciate it if you’d try particularly hard on that one, seeing as that’s where I put my money.”

Jim had no idea what to say to that. It was possible Pike was joking, because the idea that the Admiralty had a betting pool on who was going to get top scores was as comical as it was believable, but everything else about this meeting rang of harsh sincerity to him. “I’ll make sure to attend all of the extra study sessions, sir.”

“Good.” Pike leaned back in his chair. “So. When were you going to tell me.”

Kirk still had no idea what this was actually about, and while there were a lot of people he could bullshit ignorance with, Pike wasn’t on that list. In fact he was on the opposite list, so Kirk stuck with honesty and let his confusion show. “Sir?”

“About your condition.”

The room suddenly felt a good ten degrees colder. Jim had to expend real effort to keep his hands from forming into fists. “I’ve been advised, and explicitly asked, sir, to not disclose it to anyone who’s not my assigned medical officer or--"

“Or an Admiral.”

“Yes, sir.” Jim felt a little bit guilty; this was Pike, after all. “In my defense, sir, you only just made Admiral last week.”

“I meant _before_ I made Admiral, Jim. Your file says you’ve known about this since you were thirteen.” He shoved his tablet aside and rolled around to the front of his desk. “Why did you pick Command?”

“Sir?”

“Stress, physical and mental, is the number one factor in determining longevity of a CZV case. So why Command.”

“I think you know why, sir.”

Pike looked taken aback. He sighed and rubbed his face. “I didn’t mean you should enlist and pick a track regardless of any other considerations.”

“Sir, do you mean if you’d known about this back then, you wouldn’t have told me to enlist?” He couldn’t keep the betrayal out of his voice, and he saw Pike hear it.

“I’d have suggested you pick something _other_ than Command.”

“Why, sir.”

“Because Command is guaranteed to put you in the worst possible situation for what you’re dealing with. You’re the only surviving member of your cohort, and until they find a way to cure this thing you have to be careful.”

_I have so many things in common with dead people_. “There’s no guarantee they’ll ever find a cure, sir. And if they don’t and I die of it anyways I’ve sat around waiting when I could have spent whatever time I had left doing what I _wanted_ to.”

“Operations or Science aren’t exactly sitting around, Kirk.”

“With all due respect, I think you know what I meant, sir.”

That was treading on thin ice, and Pike let him know it with a steely glare, then rolled himself back behind his desk. “Unfortunately for me, Dr. M’Benga agrees with you.”

Jim blinked. “Admiral?”

“I talked to him first. He’s not of the opinion we have the right to force you to change tracks unless you’re not physically capable of doing the one you’re in. Which, right now, isn’t the case.”

Relief mixed with unease. It was good to have Dr. M’Benga on his side, in the doctor’s own ‘I won’t take any of your shit, cadet’ way, but he wanted Pike in his corner too--needed him, really, because the Academy was overflowing with people just waiting for George Kirk’s son to fail to live up to his father’s high bar. And though he sensed this was something on which he and Pike weren’t going to agree no matter how much Jim wanted them too, that didn’t dissuade him from wanting to try. “Sir, permission to speak freely?”

Pike made him wait for it, and Jim was a model cadet for those heavy, uncertain seconds. When Pike nodded, Jim said, “I have every intention, Admiral, of monitoring my condition closely, and the minute I am outside of acceptable tolerances for Command I will step down and accept whatever assignment Starfleet gives me. Dr. M’Benga has also assured me that, if I don’t do it, he will.” Pike said nothing. Jim resisted the urge to move in any way. “Until such time, sir, I feel that Command is the best use of my skills, and taking a different track in hopes of gaining a few more months is a detriment to myself, and to Starfleet.”

Pike’s expression shifted from irritated to resigned. (And maybe Jim was imagining it, but he thought there might be sadness too.) He gazed out his window. “I guess it’s the height of presumption to tell someone how to live their life, especially if they’re only doing what _you_ suggested.”

Without really thinking about it, Jim said, “I think what you suggested is the best thing to ever happen to me, sir.”

Pike looked askance at him, eyebrows raised, and Jim held his gaze against the implication. Pike turned back to his desk. He tapped at his display and sent something off to somewhere. “I would strongly recommend,” he glanced up, and his eyes implied this wasn’t actually a recommendation, “that you request Dr. M’Benga as a medical officer on whichever ship you wind up with.”

“I will, sir.”

“And if he’s _not_ the CMO, you need to inform whomever is as well.” 

Jim knew that Pike meant McCoy, but he was still surprised to hear him say it. “Yes, sir. I will.”

“Dismissed, cadet.”

Jim hesitated, feeling like there was more he needed to say, but nothing that felt worthwhile was forthcoming. He nodded and said, “Thank you, Admiral,” and quit the office at a measured pace when what he wanted to do was run.

He felt Pike’s eyes on his back until the door shut.


End file.
